DS5 Circles of Time
by Denise Felt
Summary: Commander Davenport learns more about what his predecessor faced in the past, while Straker finds that even weddings aren't immune to interruptions.


**5. Circles of Time**

**(A UFO Story)**

by Denise Felt 2010

_Dedicated to Louise Oatridge, who gets to do what we all wish we could – marry Straker!_

**Chapter 1**

"Someone I want you to meet," Howie told him as he led him toward the back of the bar.

Beer in hand, Jake followed. "Sure." Howie had been a fount of stories of the area when he and Alec had visited the Cock and Bull last week, with a few that reminded them very much of their lost commander. If Howie had more stories to tell, Jake wanted to hear them.

The elderly man led him up to a table in the back corner where a very old man sat huddled over his pint. When they joined him at the table, Jake was surprised to see that the man's lined face was dominated by piercing dark green eyes. His heart nearly stopped. He'd seen eyes that color before – in a painting.

Howie made the introductions. "Jake, I want you to meet my good friend Jake." And he chuckled at his own wit.

Jake extended his hand toward the old man. "It's an honor, sir," he told him.

Those keen eyes measured him for a moment. Then the old man shook his hand and said, "Likewise, I'm sure. Howie says as how you're a history buff."

"That's right. Local history especially."

The elderly Jacob frowned. "But ain't you American?"

Jake grinned. "Yes. Which is probably why I'm so fascinated by your history. You see, in the States, nothing dates back very far. Whereas here," and he gestured to the stone walls of the ancient pub, "you can find real history everywhere you look."

The old man cracked a smile. It ended up being more of a grimace, since his face was so heavily lined. But Jake could tell by the light in his eyes that it was meant for a smile. "If these walls could talk, eh? Wouldn't they have a tale or two to tell?"

"They certainly would," Jake agreed.

Howie said, "When you and your buddy were here last time, I could tell you really liked the stories about our local hero. So I thought you should talk to Jake here, because he's descended from him. How far back, Jake?"

The old man ruminated for a minute or two, then said, "Five generations. You met my great grandniece Grace when you toured the Manor, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Jake said, feeling bemused.

The old man nodded. "She's a sweetie, that one. Now her brother, on the other hand . . . ! Well, you don't want to hear tales about the present, though. Do you? You want stories from the past, about the greatest man to ever live in these parts."

Howie nodded, saying, "Lord Straker."

"He weren't no lord!" the old man corrected sharply. "Where'd you hear that nonsense, Howie?"

"Now, come on, Jake!" Howie said. "All the stories and such that are told about him – he's bound to have been a lord or something important like that. You know it as well as me!"

"Well, I can see where you might think so," the elderly Jake conceded. "He certainly wasn't any ordinary person. But he never had no title. We'd have known if he did, you know."

Howie reluctantly agreed, but said, "Maybe he lost all his lands up north and came here to start over again. It's for sure no one here would have known anything about him, so he could have kept it all quiet and nobody'd be the wiser."

The old man considered such a possibility for a minute or two, sipping his pint. Then he said, "It don't make no never-how, Howie! What he did and who he was before he came here, no one will ever know now. But we gotta stick with what we do know, and that's that he weren't no lord."

"But he definitely wasn't ordinary," Jake said quietly.

"That's right," the old man said, nodding in approval. "So, what stories have you heard so far?"

Jake sat forward, both hands around his beer mug. "The one about how he saved the town well when the water went bad. And the one where he ran off that revivalist preacher that tried to ridicule the vicar. And the time he came into town with all his grandkids hanging off of him."

The old man grinned. "That one is everybody's favorite. My great grandfather wasn't one of those kids, because he was born after Grandpa Straker died. But several of his cousins were there. They used to see how many of them he could carry before he couldn't walk no more. I don't know as they ever managed to pile enough of them on to stop him. He weren't a big man, but he sure was strong."

Jake well remembered the whipcord strength of his commander. Many were the times they had sparred together over the years, and Jake had never won against him. Because not only was Straker stronger than he looked, but he was also fiercer. And Jake had never wanted to best that ferocity. He'd admired it too much. "What other stories do you know about him, Jake?"

The old man sipped his beer and thought. Then he asked, "Did you ever wonder why our town was called Devilsgate? They changed it before I turned ten, merging us with Harlington. But before that, it was called Devilsgate. Heathen name, ain't it?"

"I never thought about it," Jake said. "But you're right. It sounds very gothic."

The old man nodded. "It was on account of the devils that used to roam these hills. Long time ago they started coming 'round, back when Lord Baxter first settled up on the hill and built the Manor. Killed any number of people over the years. Gutted them like fish, they did. Wicked, that's what they were. Pure wicked."

Jake blinked. "Why? Why would they kill people?"

The old man shrugged. "No one ever knew. But folks learned to stay home after dark. It just wasn't safe not to. I even remember my parents worrying if me or my brothers were out after dark, and there hadn't been a devil seen in these parts for over a hundred years by then! But that fear died a hard death, let me tell you."

"Does no one know why they came or why they left?" Jake asked, surprised by such a story.

'Oh, we know why they left," the old man said with a rusty chuckle. "Grandpa Straker ran them off, long about the turn of the century. Not long after my great great grandfather Jacob was born. He was Grandpa Straker's youngest boy, and second-to-the-last child. I was named after him."

Jake set his beer down and stared at him. "He ran them off? How?"

"No one knows," the elderly man said. "But he'd been fighting them for nearly fifteen years, ever since he first showed up in these parts. He once even saved his wife from them, although she wasn't his wife yet when he did."

"Really?"

The old man sipped his beer and nodded. "Killed dunno-how-many of those devils to get to her. She'd gone up the hill to take care of the bodies that the devils had left behind, and they'd attacked her – in broad daylight! And he knew. Somehow Grandpa Straker just knew that she was in danger, and he raced up the hill after her. Killed them all, quick as you please. She'd been hurt trying to fend them off, and he carried her in his arms all the way back to the Manor. Well, Grandma weren't no fool. She said she'd marry him, right then and there."

Jake sipped his own beer and thought about the story. "Devils, you say?" he said eventually. "Does anyone remember what they looked like?"

"Oh, sure! They were red devils, and they used to come out of the pond up in the forest. The forest is gone now and has been for a long time. Pond is gone too. But we still remember."

"What's wrong?" she asked, sitting up in the bed and putting her arms around her knees. "Alec?"

He turned from where he stood at the window, the moonlight shining in on his face and chest. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

Del shook her head. Then her ornery grin popped out, and she said, "Maybe. You were thinking some pretty heavy thoughts there. They might have woke me."

Alec's crooked grin appeared. "Sure they did."

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

He looked at her. She didn't even look real in the moonlight filtering in from the window; more like a pixie from some alternate fantasy world. It struck him all of a sudden that she had somehow become an important part of his life. Much more than a one-night-stand. It troubled him for a moment, then he brushed it aside. He'd worry about that later.

He came back to the bed and sat in front of her, picking up her hand and absently toying with the long slender fingers. "I miss Ed."

She didn't tell him that they all did, and would for a long time – possibly forever. Instead, she said, "I'll bet he's missing you too."

He met her eyes in surprise. Then he grinned again. "You think?"

"Oh, sure. His best friend in the whole world? Of course, he's missing you. He probably wishes he could tell you about everything he's been doing, knowing you'd get a kick out of it."

He chuckled. "Jake and I went to a pub last week where they knew a few stories about him. God! It was so surreal, you know? Hearing about him that way . . . and the things he did two centuries ago! Seeing how much they think of him, even today, for the things he did back then. I don't know how to describe it, really."

"It moved you."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "He didn't change at all by going back in time. He's still the same old Ed. Interfering in what doesn't concern him. Always rushing to the rescue. Damn fool."

"It made you smile," she said, seeing that smile on his face as he spoke about it.

"I guess," he said, his eyes full of memories. "It helped a little, to be able to talk about him, even with strangers. We had a good time."

"I'm glad."

He said, "Is Jake okay?"

Del frowned. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "He's taking this pretty hard himself. I don't think anyone at HQ expected him to, because he wasn't around, you know? But I can tell that it's been rough for him to deal with losing Ed. I know Ed thought the world of him, and I suppose Jake felt the same way about him."

She nodded. "He was such a breath of fresh air to us every time he came to town. Someone who understood us, and liked who we were. I always thought of him as a protective older brother, and I think Jake did too. He'll always be a major influence on our lives, Alec, even gone. And it'll be a while before we can go through a day without missing him. Is that what you're worried about?"

"No, because I understand that. I'm dealing with that too. It's just that – Jake hasn't even changed his office!"

Del blinked. "Should he?"

"Well, you did. You changed his studio office, so that you could work in there without the constant reminder that it had been his first."

"Well, not quite for that reason, but you're close enough," she said. "And since Jake hasn't made any changes to the HQ office, you're worried that he's stuck with that reminder every hour of every day?"

"Yeah. It can't be good for him. Can it?"

She sighed. "I don't think Jake will ever forget that Ed was first. But I do think that he shouldn't wallow in the past. Ed wouldn't have wanted him to. He trusted Jake's judgment. And I think if he doesn't change anything, he'll constantly be second-guessing himself, wondering what Ed would do rather than what he should do."

"Yeah. That's it exactly."

"Okay," she said, taking his hands in hers. "Then what we need to do is help him stay in the present."

"How do we do that?"

She grinned her ornery grin. "We help him redecorate, of course."

Ginny was deep into the proposed upgrades for Moonbase's computers when the alert sounded. _Damn SID and his automated monotone! _she thought as she put aside the spec sheets and got up from behind her desk. Whose brilliant idea was it anyway to make him sound so damned indifferent? She came into the Control room and went up to Lt. Johnson at radar. "What is it, Ayshea?"

"Four UFOs, Colonel," she answered. "Heading in fast. SOL .95 and not decreasing much."

"Do we have trajectories yet?"

"No, sir."

"Launch interceptors."

After a minute, Ayshea turned back to the colonel. "Interceptors launched, sir."

They watched the speeding UFOs on the radar screen for a while. As the blips that were Moonbase's interceptors headed their direction on the grid, Lt. Johnson heard Col. Lake murmur under her breath, "Get them, guys!" Surreptitiously, she crossed her own fingers under the console. It might seem superstitious and silly to some members of the staff, but she had found that it nearly always worked.

After several more tense minutes, two of the incoming blips disappeared from the screen. And Moonbase radioed in that they had destroyed two of the incoming UFOs.

"Thank you, Gay," Virginia answered. "Tell the guys they did well."

"Yes, Colonel. Moonbase, out."

"Trajectories for the two remaining UFOs, Lieutenant?"

As the coordinates flashed onto the screen, Ginny sighed. She wasn't as good as Commander Straker had been and able to triangulate places off the top of her head from the jumble of numbers onscreen. But she'd seen these numbers before, and therefore knew where the aliens were headed.

"Get Sky 3 and 4 in the air, Lieutenant. And alert ground defenses at the various iridium deposit sites that they may have a fight coming their way. I'm calling in Jake."

"So, how old are you, Jake?" the younger Jake asked, toying with his beer mug.

The old man grinned at him and puffed out his chest. "Turned ninety this spring. Still time yet to do a few more things. I'll be headed home to see my Gladiola sometime, I expect. But not just yet." He chuckled rustily. "No, no. Not yet."

The commander shook his head in wonder. "Ninety's a good age," he agreed. He had a hard time trying to imagine what he'd be doing at ninety. His phone beeped at him, and he frowned when he saw the readout. He got up from the table and shook Jake's hand, saying, "I've got to go now, but I hope you'll bend my ear again sometime with your stories."

"Well, sure!" the old man said, shaking his hand heartily.

"Thanks, Howie!" Jake nodded to him as he headed out.

"That was somethin', wasn't it?" Howie asked the old man.

"What was?"

"That you were both Jakes!" Howie said, as if it should have been obvious.

"Lots of people named Jake, Howie," the old man said, going back to his beer.

"Yeah, I suppose," Howie conceded. "But, still . . ."

**Chapter 2**

Straker folded his lace neckcloths and set them into his valise. It felt odd doing this, packing up his things. It wasn't as if he hadn't done it before now. It was just that he knew this time was the last time he'd be doing it. Tomorrow he'd be unpacking once more at the Manor, only this time to stay.

His breath still caught when he thought about it. He would be married tomorrow. It was foolish to worry so much about it. It was only a word, after all. Marriage. But it conjured such hurtful memories to his mind that it made it hard to think his way past it – to Louise. Mary had been such a mistake. And even more than he hated admitting a mistake, he hated making one. But with the hindsight brought on by several years alone and now a much deeper and fulfilling love, he knew that he'd been a fool to marry her. And he'd paid the price. They'd all paid the price – John, Mary, and him.

He stared at the embroidery of his wedding waistcoat as he carefully set it aside for the morning. It was delicately stitched and quite a work of art. And it reminded him of Louise. Her delicate face. Her beautiful smile. Her brave heart. It couldn't be a mistake to marry her. In fact, he was fairly sure the mistake would be if he _didn't_ marry her. Damn any possible time paradoxes and the inequality of their stations in life – they belonged together! If he was certain of nothing else in this strange new life he was living, he was sure of that. He would not fail in this marriage as he'd done in the last. He wasn't the same man he'd been back then – or even in the same line of work (except as a forced hobby of sorts.) And she wasn't Mary. Clinging, lost without a man at her side Mary. Louise was nothing like her. He smiled suddenly, remembering how well Louise had defended herself against her attackers that day on the hill. Her and the little dagger her grandmother had given her. The way she'd looked at him so calmly and said that she'd known he would come. God, he loved her!

He smoothed the line of his wedding jacket as he set it with the waistcoat. His other three jackets were folded neatly and added to the valise. It didn't matter if they got a few wrinkles, he knew. Thomas would take care of them for him. That would be nice, having a valet to see to his clothes. He'd never considered himself a finicky dresser. He'd known for years what style suited his tastes, and his tailor had always agreed with him. His clothes had been a given.

But here in Devilsgate, he'd had to start from scratch, as it were. And he found to his surprise that it mattered a great deal to him whether he wore satin or chintz. Brocade or leather. And he'd really taken to having lace at his collar and cuffs. Did that make him a fop, he wondered? To care so much about what he wore and how it felt to wear it? He sighed as he caught his reflection in the spotted mirror over the wash stand. If so, he would have to rely on the good sense of his bride to keep him from descending into dandyism. He smiled at the thought.

There was a scratch at the door, and he went to answer it. It was the landlord, letting him know that his wife had prepared a special dinner for Mr. Straker tonight in honor of his nuptials. As he enthusiastically outlined the several courses she had prepared, Straker finished his packing and set his valise near the bed. Then with a quiet remark of gratitude to the landlord and his kind wife, he followed the man downstairs to the inn's main parlor where his meal awaited.

"What have you got?"

"Oh, Jake! I'm so glad you're here!" Ginny said, more relieved than she wanted to admit to see him stride into the Control room.

He came over to where she stood near Ayshea's console and rubbed Col. Lake's arm in an absent and very soothing manner. "Who's in the air?"

"Lew and Carstairs," she told him. "And we've alerted the ground sites as well."

"Good." He got on the microphone to the pilots. "Captains, this is Davenport. Do your best to get within visual range as soon as possible. We don't want to lose track of these guys."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Commander."

He stood at her side as the UFOs descended into the atmosphere. As the Sky jets intercepted. As they set their missiles and fired. As they radioed back in.

"Commander Davenport," Capt. Carstairs said over the mike. "Detonation positive. UFO destroyed. Heading back to rendezvous with Skydiver 4."

"Roger, Sky 4," Jake answered. "Good job."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sky 3 to HQ," said Capt. Waterman over the mike.

"We read you, Lew," Jake said. "What's the situation?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Commander," came back the terse reply. "I had the UFO in my sights and had locked target. But by the time my missile reached it, it had gone. I had detonation, but there was no UFO there to be hit. I'm scanning the area now for any sign of it. Sorry, sir."

"Don't be," Jake answered immediately. "It wasn't your fault, Lew. Go ahead and search the area for as long as your fuel holds out, then return to base. We'll take it from here."

"Thank you, Commander. Sky 3, out."

Jake turned the microphone back over to Ayshea and headed for the HQ office.

Lt. Johnson turned to Virginia in surprise and said, "Doesn't he want to know if ground defenses pick up the UFO, Colonel?"

Ginny looked at her for a moment, sharing her puzzlement. "I don't know," she said finally and headed for the office to find out.

The sounds from the taproom across the passageway had been steadily increasing over the past ten minutes, and Straker had been trying to decide if it would do any good for him to return to his room, or if the noise level would remain the same upstairs. But before he could set down his coffee and rise from the table, the door to the passageway opened and Matthew entered.

He stood up in surprise. "Matthew! What is it? Is Louise . . . ?"

The gardener waved a dismissive hand. "No, no, sir! The mistress is fine."

"Good." Straker relaxed and sat back down, but Matthew stood running his hands around the brim of his hat as if worried about something. "Was there something you needed, Matthew?" he prompted softly.

"Well, sir. Seeing as tomorrow's the wedding and all, we wanted to do things up right and tight."

"Alright." Straker had no idea what he meant, but he was sure the gardener would get to the point eventually.

Matthew swallowed audibly, then said in a rush, "We wanted to give you a sending-off party, as it were. If you wanted, sir." He was blushing furiously by the time he ended.

And Straker was so surprised by their thoughtfulness that he had to clear his throat before answering. He hadn't let himself think about it, but he'd missed Alec terribly tonight, remembering his last wedding and the bachelor party that had preceded it. He rose and came forward, shaking Matthew's hand. "Thank you very much, Matthew," he said. "I would love to come."

The elderly man's flush deepened, and he stammered, "It's just in the taproom across the hall."

"Then lead on," Straker told him and followed him from the relative quiet of the parlor into the noisy taproom.

He had a cup of tea at his desk and was working furiously at his computer when she entered the office. He looked up and acknowledged her with an absent smile, then went back to his work. She thought briefly of climbing into his lap and forcing him to look at her, but she was a patient woman and merely took a seat in front of the desk and waited him out.

After a few minutes of her unrelenting stare, Jake turned to her and said, "What?"

She gave him her most patient smile and said, "Shall I let you know if the ground defenses are breached?"

He blinked, then said with a flick of his hand, "Oh, sure. But they won't be." And he added a few calculations to whatever he had onscreen.

Ginny lifted a brow at him. "And you know this because . . . ?"

He sat back suddenly and met her gaze full on. He grinned at seeing her expression, realizing that he must have seemed quite drunk for a moment there. "Hey, beautiful!" he said softly.

She blushed, but shook her head, refusing to be distracted. "Jake, what's going on? Do you know what the aliens are up to? Because I don't have a clue, and I've been here during the entire attack, unlike some people I could name who just came in for the finale. Want to let me in on the secret?"

His eyes danced wickedly, and he said, "Come here and ask me that."

She stood up. "Are you drunk? Because this is no time for fun and games, Jake! We're in the middle of a UFO attack and . . .!"

"The attack is over," he said quietly.

He sounded so sure that she sat back down. "How do you know?" she asked him in bewilderment.

He grinned at her, folding his hands on the desk. "I heard an interesting story tonight at the pub. Want to hear it?"

She wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall, but she restrained that impulse and said, "Okay. I'll play along. What was the story?"

"It was about how Devilsgate got its name."

He had her attention now. "And how was that?" she asked.

"Well, according to the old man who told the tale – who, by the way, was a descendant of someone we all know and love – the town got that name because of the red devils that plagued the area for over a century. Apparently, these devils came out of a local pond at fairly regular intervals and eviscerated the local villagers for fun. They were finally run off at the beginning of the 1800's by our own beloved missing commander, although no one seems to know for certain just how he got rid of them."

"My God!" she said, appalled at the implications.

"Yeah," he said, nodding at her. "That's kind of how I felt about it."

"Then they're not moving through time to a different area in order to attack later, but to a different time period altogether!"

"Yeah. That pretty much sums it up. God, you're cute when you're brilliant! Come here!"

She found herself reacting to the look in his eyes and barely stopped herself from getting up from the chair. "Stop it, Jake! We have to think. So when Commander Straker was sent back to the past . . ."

"He found some unwelcome fellow travelers when he got there," he finished for her.

"Jake!" She looked shaken. "How did he manage to survive?"

"I don't know," he said with a grin. "But I'd never bet against him. He's one in a million."

She smiled, hearing the awe in his voice. "Yes, he is," she agreed. "But you're no slouch either. This is amazing detective work, Jake. We need to know more. Can you talk to this man again?"

"Sure." He waved a careless hand. "By the way, his name is Jake too. How's that for serendip- hmmm. Serendip–?"

"Serendipity. How much did you drink at this pub, Jake?"

He thought about it for a while. "I'm not real sure," he said in surprise. "But it doesn't matter. I'm off-duty."

She grinned at him and got up from the chair to fix him some coffee. "Sure you are," she said and replaced his tea with the coffee. "Have some of this."

He frowned at it, then looked at her. "Why?"

She smiled at him and came around the desk to run a hand through his unruly hair. "Because it's good for you."

"Nonsense," he said firmly. "Tea is much easier on the system than coffee."

"That's true," she said, settling into his lap and handing him the cup. "But coffee helps sober you up quicker."

"Oh." He grinned at her and took the coffee, drinking it down obediently, but grimacing at the aftertaste. "Yuck!"

She leaned in and kissed him, drawing it out for a lovely moment. When she leaned back, she asked with a smile, "How about now?"

He tossed the empty cup over his shoulder with a grin and grabbed her close for another kiss.

The toasts had gone on for some time. Straker sat at the bar with his practically untouched glass of ale and watched in bemusement as the men of the town told and retold stories about him, from the one where he'd rescued Louise that had been exaggerated out of any semblance to reality to their own impressions of him when they'd first met him. Booth sat on the stool next to him and slapped him on the back every once in a while as the jokes flew.

The young blacksmith had been one of the first to sign up for the new Devilsgate Geological Society. He'd given Straker a fierce look from under his dark brows and said, "Anything, sir, to get back at those demons who took my Clarice from me." And Straker had realized that his lovely fiancee had been right. The villagers were itching for some payback. In fact, there wasn't anyone in the newly formed group that hadn't lost a loved one to an attack over the years. Even Joseph, the youngest of the group and the most zealous, had lost someone. His uncle had been one of the grooms at the manor and had died the evening Louise's father had been attacked on horseback. In the ensuing chaos when the horse bolted, he'd tried to give his seriously injured lord a chance to get to safety by putting himself as a shield between the enemy and his master. His body had never been recovered.

" . . . and I thought for certain this here buck from town wouldn't last more'n a day in these parts," said Hawkins the tapster, who'd been telling about Straker's first day at the inn. Everyone laughed as he shook his head and finished, "But I guess he shore showed us!"

Straker smiled at their good-natured ribbing. It was hard for him to even remember that first day at the inn himself, when he'd been so determined not to importune his hostess any further. Everything he'd done that afternoon had been accomplished as if in a fog. He'd still been able to taste her sweet lips against his, and feel her lovely arms around him. He was amazed, looking back, that he'd been able to form a coherent sentence when he'd spoken to the landlord about a room. And tomorrow she would be his. _His Louise_. His smile grew as he thought about it.

And the room erupted into guffaws as the men noticed his preoccupation. He grinned, flushing slightly at being caught daydreaming. And Booth chuckled and slapped him on the back again.

**Chapter 3**

"I've got something for you."

Keith looked up from his cinnamon roll and gave him a pained look, and Jake stopped grinning and said, "What? What'd I say?"

The lieutenant sighed. "The last time you told me that, I found out that Commander Straker had named one of his kids after me, and that same kid had turned out to be his ancestor. I don't know if I can take any more of your 'gifts', Jake. I'm still trying to come to terms with that one."

"I know. It's weird, knowing he named one of his kids after you, isn't it? On the one hand, it's like a real honor, and at the same time, it's like you have this counterpart in some alternate universe or something."

"Exactly. It boggles the mind completely."

Commander Davenport chuckled. "Yeah, it gets a bit surreal, doesn't it? You should have seen me last night."

Keith raised an inquiring brow. "In an alternate universe, were you?"

Jake's grin widened. "Oh, yeah. Remember me telling you about that pub Alec and I went to last week?"

Ford nodded. "The one where they knew stories about the commander?"

"That's the one. Well, I went back last night and met a guy who told a very interesting story about him. But here's the kicker: he was one of Straker's descendants."

"For real?"

Jake shook his head in bemusement. "It was so bizarre! And this guy's name was Jacob. How's that for taking it off the charts of reality altogether?"

Keith's mouth was hanging open. "No way!"

Jake leaned forward, glad that someone else understood his feelings. "Serious business. Here's this old guy, ninety years old he told me, talking about his incredible ancestor and saying that nobody really knew what he'd done before he came to Devilsgate . . . and I'm sitting there thinking, 'Man, I know exactly what he did before he came there, and it's another story all by itself!'"

Keith grinned. "That is so cool!"

"Yeah." After a minute, Jake sat back and said, "But that's not even the half of it. I found out that Commander Straker kept busy while he was in Devilsgate. It seems the people there had been harassed for over a century by aliens who were harvesting organs from their village."

Ford just stared at him in astonishment. "But . . . but, how?"

Jake ran a hand over his face. "If I have the timing right, the first aliens would have appeared in the village around the time that Baxter got sent back there and built the Manor. And they didn't leave for good until Ed managed to stop them around the beginning of the 1800's. Can you imagine what would have happened if he hadn't been thrown back in time? What would England have been like if they'd never been stopped?"

"So, wait a minute." Keith held up a hand to give himself time to sort it out. "The aliens sent the commander back in time to get rid of him, so that they could try and take over Earth without him around. But instead, by sending him back there, they only made sure that he would stop what they were doing back then?"

"Yeah." Jake's grin was infectious.

"Hot damn!"

"My sentiments exactly!" the commander said. "The thing is, I can't quite figure out the sequence of the whole thing. I mean, Baxter didn't go back until after the commander did, but he went to an earlier time, so . . ."

"No, no, no!" Keith said, waving him away with both hands. "Don't even go there! That way lies madness!"

Jake sighed. "I know. It's been scrambling my brain for the past several hours. I need Del to help me sort it out. She's got a more flexible mind."

"You know what this means, though?" Ford asked after a minute, setting down his coffee. Jake looked at him, and he continued. "It means that he didn't get a break after all. I mean, I guess when we found out about all his kids, it made it seem as if he'd had it fairly easy there. You know: home, family, that sort of thing. Everything he didn't have here. But instead, it was only more of the same bullshit!"

Jake was shaking his head. "You can't think about it like that, Keith! The aliens couldn't have been coming there nonstop. There's no way anyone would have survived if they had. And they couldn't have come in force either, for the same reason. So it had to have been intermittent. Every once in a while. I mean, he definitely had time to make all those kids, right?"

Keith grinned ruefully. "Yeah. I see what you're saying." Then he sighed. "It's still a mindfry, though."

"No argument there, old buddy."

"So, is that the surprise you had for me?" he asked after a minute or so.

"No." Jake suddenly grinned. "Although this surprise has to do with the past as well, actually. You see, I was looking over Straker's evaluations of you for the past several years. They were pretty impressive."

Keith smiled. "They were?"

"Oh, yeah. And before he got shanghaied across time, he'd made a note to put in for a promotion for you." Jake handed him a flat leather wallet. "To colonel."

Keith almost dropped the wallet. "What?"

"Open it."

"But I don't understand!" Ford sputtered. "If it was his recommendation, why are you . . . ?"

Jake smiled softly. "Because I'd already planned on doing it myself, that's why. But once I'd read those reviews, I realized it wouldn't be right if I didn't tell you that it had been his decision as well. In fact, he'd decided about three years ago to promote you."

"What?"

"Yeah." Jake shook his head. "But he couldn't do it. He needed you too bad at radar. He couldn't let you go. So he put it off."

Keith touched the wallet gingerly. "Really?"

Jake chuckled. "Hell, I understand exactly what he felt! I don't want to lose you at radar either! But it's time, Keith. It's past time for you to get the promotion you deserve."

There were tears in the lieutenant's eyes. "I don't know what to say."

"Open it."

Slowly, Ford opened the wallet. He just stared at the new ID it held for several minutes. _Colonel Keith Ford_, it read. Then he looked at his friend. His commander. "What now?"

Jake grinned back at him. "Now, you go get ready for the senior staff meeting, where your promotion will be formally announced. After that, you'll be present for the command team briefing, where you'll get your new assignment."

"Oh," Keith said, getting up and wandering toward the door. "Okay."

Jake grinned at his bemused expression as he left the office, the rest of his breakfast completely forgotten on the conference table.

"Congratulations, Keith! You deserve it!" Ginny said as she passed him a fresh cup of coffee.

"Thank you, Colonel," he said, flushing slightly.

"Been a long time coming," Alec agreed with a grin. "How does it feel?"

"I don't know yet," their newest colonel admitted ruefully. "Ask me later."

"No, no! Don't have him ask you later, Keith!" Jake said with an ornery grin. "You're giving up your cushy job at radar, after all. It won't all be easy office work from here on out, you know."

Ford slanted him a look. "You try it sometime, Jake, and then tell me it's easy!" Then he seemed to realize he was addressing his commander, and he turned beet red.

But Jake just laughed at him.

Paul said, "I know I wouldn't have wanted your job, Keith. A thankless one if there ever was one. Who's going to take your place?"

"I don't know."

Jake said, "Well, you've got until noon to come up with a replacement, so you'd better start thinking about it. I want your first, second, and third recommendations for the post, and the reasons why."

Keith stood up. "Yes, sir."

Jake handed him a folder. "And here's your assignment."

Keith opened it – and almost dropped it in surprise. "Moonbase 2?"

"Research and Development has been working for six months on a three-way communications setup for us. I want to be able to conference talk between Moonbase, Moonbase 2, and HQ all at the same time. And I want it set up before the base gets built, so we can stay in constant communication during construction. So far, they haven't been able to come up with a viable plan, and building is slated to begin on the new base in one month's time. It's your job to find a way that works. You've got a month to do it. I'm sending you to their main facility in Nassau this afternoon. You'll be there for the duration. Any questions?"

Ford just looked at him in bemusement, a grin spreading across his thin face. "The Bahamas? You're sending me to the Bahamas?"

Jake's lips twitched, but he said seriously enough, "Your flight leaves at 1430. Be there on time."

"Yes, sir." Keith floated out of the office wearing a stupid smile on his face, holding the folder to his chest like a prize.

Once the door closed behind him, Alec said, "What are the odds that he won't get a lick of work done for a week? That boy hasn't seen an island paradise in his life!"

Jake chuckled. "No, Alec. He won't be able to handle the inactivity. I give him two days, max."

"Not a chance!" Ginny said. "With all those island beauties coaxing him to relax? Three days, minimum."

They all turned to the only silent member of the team. Foster just shook his head at them. "You're taking bets on when he'll get to work on the project? That's ridiculous!"

"Pay up or shut up, Colonel. It's all the same to us." Jake's grin was just a little bit taunting.

Paul came forward. "What are the stakes?"

"A hundred a head," Alec said from his chair. "Just a friendly wager, after all."

Foster shook his head at them again, but he said, "Alright. I'm in. Twenty-four hours. He'll be to work on the project within the first twenty-four hours."

"No way!"

"Not a chance!"

"This is the Bahamas we're talking about here!" Alec complained. "Let's be real about this."

Paul grinned at them. "That's my bet. Take it or leave it."

Alec shrugged. "It's your money."

Jake said, "Got it recorded, Alec?"

"Yep. I'll call Jan at the Nassau base and let her know where the pool sits. She'll have the stats from their office crew to add in."

"Good," Jake said as the older man got up and left the office whistling.

The commander looked at his fiancee. "Go home, Doll-face! Get some sleep. I need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the evening's shift."

She stood up and grinned wryly at him. "Slave driver," she said fondly and left the office.

Jake raised a brow as Foster remained standing in front of the desk. "Need something, Colonel?"

Foster nodded. "I was wondering how much longer I'll be on probation, Commander?"

Jake sat back. "That depends. How have you liked working here at HQ these past weeks?"

Paul grimaced, then said, "You want the truth?"

"Of course."

The colonel ran a hand through his hair. "It's not really my scene, if you want to know the truth of it, sir. I'm used to something a bit more . . . um . . ."

"Active?"

"Yeah."

"That's what I thought too, Colonel."

Paul looked at him in surprise. "Then why did you keep me here for so long?"

"Because _you_ needed to know it, Paul," Jake said. "And now that you do, your probation is ended. Are you ready for your next assignment?"

Foster just looked at him in shock for a moment, then he said, "Okay. I guess."

Jake handed him a folder.

When he opened it, he raised a brow inquiringly, but inside his heart started to race. "Moonbase 2?"

"I need someone to take charge of the movement of materials and supplies to the moon, making the most from each lunar trip so that costs stay down. And to get a proper rotation of pilots for the flights, so that no one gets burned out on the job. It's going to be rigorous enough as it is. Right now, the entire shipping schedule is in a holy mess. But I expect you might be able to get it into some reasonable order within a month. If you work at it. That kind of work more your scene, Paul?"

Foster looked at him with the first true smile he'd worn since Straker disappeared. "Yes, sir. I can do that."

"Good. Then it's your mess now, Colonel. Make it work."

"Thank you, Commander." He closed the folder and left the office with a spring in his step.

And Jake sat back in his chair, well-satisfied with his day's work so far. Then his office door slid open, and Col. Lake entered. He frowned at her. "What is it, Ginny?"

She grinned at him. "I forgot something," she told him and gave him a long, passionate kiss.

When she pulled back, he kept hold of the nape of her neck and said, "How about that? I forgot too!" and brought her back for another.

But when she eventually got off his lap to head home, he said, "Don't think I don't know what that was all about."

She batted her lashes innocently at him.

His lips twitched. "You wanted to see the look on Foster's face when he left the office."

She grinned unrepentantly. "Guilty as charged, sir."

He chuckled. "Well, how did he look to you?"

"Happy as a clam."

"Good."

She cocked her head and stared at him a moment.

"What?" he asked, mistrusting the seriousness of that look.

"You're a good man, Jake," she said.

"Why? Because I gave him a job that will have him tearing out hair for the next thirty days?"

She shook her head. "No. Because you gave him a second chance. When he really didn't deserve one."

He sat back with a rueful smile. "Ginny, face it. None of us ever deserve a second chance. But sometimes we get one anyway. And when we do, we tend to try not to screw up again."

She gave him a beautiful smile. "Yeah. And you're wise too." And with that, she left the office to go get some sleep.

**Chapter 4**

Since this was not a first marriage for either one of them, they had dispensed with a few of the formal traditions, to the relief of them both and the horror of the vicar. So Straker stood in his charcoal grey tuxedo and awaited his bride at the doorway of the church, standing at the top of the steps. He noticed the clouds rolling in overhead and knew that they would probably not finish the service before the weather became difficult. But it hardly mattered. None of the villagers would let a spot of rain keep them from coming up the hill after the ceremony for the reception.

As he stood there, trying to relax on the inside to match the way he looked on the outside, he saw the carriage drive down the hill from the Manor with Carl at the reins. It drew up to a stop at the foot of the pathway, and Carl jumped down from the box to assist his mistress to alight. Straker's heart leapt in his chest at the first sight of her lovely red curls as she descended from the carriage, holding onto her skirts to keep them from getting dirty. She glanced up to where he stood . . .

. . . and they both just smiled at one another. He was suddenly relaxed on the inside too. This was right. This was theirs. He held out a hand to take hers as she came up the steps, and she put her own small one into it without any hesitation. He squeezed it encouragingly as they turned and made their way into the church and down the main aisle.

Louise had been so concerned that she would feel the shadow of her first marriage hanging over her today, since she was marrying in the same church where she and Geoffrey had said their vows. As the carriage had been driven down the hill, she'd seen the church in the distance and almost wanted to turn back. She didn't want any reminder of Geoffrey today. He'd been good to her, but he had never come close to engaging her heart as Edward had done so effortlessly. She wanted today to be about her and Edward, not about her and Edward and Geoffrey.

But when she was assisted from the carriage and looked up, she'd seen Edward standing there on the steps waiting for her. And suddenly she had been calm. Geoffrey wasn't here today after all. Only Edward was – her lover, her champion, her friend. She had taken his hand, knowing that there was no path they could not tread with their heads held high, as long as they were together. He had told her often how much he needed her, but she had already seen for herself how much he had needed someone to be there for him, so that he did not have to carry his burdens alone. It had given her the courage to admit to him how much she needed him in return. And for the same reasons. They had been two lonely souls cast adrift in the whirlwind of life, stumbling onward as best they could in neverending spirals – until fate had stepped in and miraculously brought them both to the same spot at the same time, merging their individual spirals into one harmonious circle. She felt his reassuring pressure on her fingers and smiled at him. Today they would seal that union, the one they felt deep inside every time their eyes met. She turned and looked toward the altar and the vicar who awaited them. Today was theirs.

The vicar smiled complacently as the couple approached the altar. Mr. Cheevers had been appalled at some of the changes Mr. Straker and Lady Oatridge had wanted to make to the wedding ceremony. They had no attendants to stand with them at the altar, and milady had refused to consider having someone give her away to her new husband. She insisted on walking down the aisle with her groom. But Mr. Straker had been the one to suggest that there be no veil to hide his bride's features until the ceremony concluded. He wanted to see her face, he'd said, with a look in his eyes as he gazed at milady that had made the vicar himself blush. And Lady Oatridge had smiled and agreed, saying it was useless to try and cover her red hair anyway. They had ended that final meeting in one accord, but the vicar had been scandalized. Such things simply weren't done. But he had been forced to bow to their combined determination. And he supposed God wouldn't mind all that much in the end. At least they would be wed.

Straker couldn't take his eyes off of his bride. The dress that her modiste had created for her was perfect for her, making her appear almost ethereal in the soft light inside the church, while still proving that she was very much a real woman. The dress was made of a creamy white chiffon that billowed into full sleeves that ended at the wrists with a ruffle of the most delicate lace. Glimpses of her soft arms could be seen beneath the sheer fabric, reminding him of how it felt to be enfolded in her embrace. The dress' bodice was lowcut, but gathered at the empire, so that her beautiful breasts were highlighted in the design where the hint of her cleavage left off. A stiff and undoubtedly heavy corset covered in beads and pearls brought her waistline to a tiny measure, making the sheer fullness both above and below seem like wispy clouds. And several layers of the chiffon made up the full skirt and train; so sheer – but so many layers – that he kept trying to catch sight of her lovely legs and was unable to. If her goal had been to entice him to a fever pitch, the dress had been a complete success. He could hardly believe he would have to wait through a long and noisy reception afterward before he could take her into his arms for the first time as his wife.

He looked so noble and strong standing there beside her as the vicar read the words of the ceremony to them. His dark grey tuxedo showed his broad shoulders to excellent advantage, reminding her of the feel of them under her hands. His white blonde hair was tied back into a grey riband today. She was so pleased that it was growing out so quickly. Soon it would be long enough that he could remove the hair extensions that made it impossible for her to run her hands through it as she yearned to do. His lean face looked so intense above the flow of lace at his collar, showing clearly the contrast between the man he was and the man he appeared to be. His blue eyes burned with a fire meant just for her as he recited his vows to her, and her heart caught in her throat for a moment, making it difficult for her to say her vows back to him. Her voice came out softer than normal and with a slight tremble that would probably be perceived as shyness, but was in fact a sign of the passion flowing through her. Oh, why hadn't they set the reception for later in the day? They would have been able to steal away for an hour or two if they had planned better! She saw the same realization in his eyes just before he kissed her, and she almost laughed. What a pair they were! Always in tune in their thoughts – and always eager to be in each other's arms. It was a scandalous thought to have in a church. And at the altar, in particular! But surely God would not rebuke them for the love they shared? All love came from Him, after all.

The crowd in the church stood and cheered as they were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Straker. Louise turned to her new husband with a grin, and he gave her an answering one in return.

Then the joy that filled the room was splintered by the entrance of a young woman, who stumbled into the doorway, filthy and wet from the pouring rain outside. And hysterically cried, "Help us, please! They have killed us! They have killed us!"

It took far too long for the village women to get the young woman coherent enough for an explanation. But Straker hadn't needed to wait for the details. He and a small band of the men in the church headed out into the rain, arming themselves and heading for the hill. His new wife gave him a long look and a fierce hug before letting him go, and he knew that she would be worried for him. But he would not die today. He wanted to tell her that, to reassure her that such a thing could not occur on their wedding day – this most perfect day of their lives. But there wasn't time, and he wasn't sure she would believe him anyway. So he would just have to return as soon as he could so he could show her.

They entered the forest carefully, doing their best not to make any sound. None of them were dressed for stealthy work; they were all in stiff suit jackets and buckled shoes. But the bad weather was in their favor and continued to pour down, making it possible for them to come upon the aliens without giving the alarm.

Straker had told them that they would likely only get one shot each against the demons, so they made them count. Lord Oatridge's flintlock was almost as familiar to him now as his Glock had been in years past, and Straker's bullet took out one of the aliens with swift precision. Booth's blunderbuss was not quite as accurate; but since it was quickly followed by the tapster's bullet, between the two the job was done, and the second alien fell.

The men were left staring at the destruction around them. A large carriage lay at an angle in the underbrush beside the trail that led through the forest, one of its wheels torn clean off and the body of the carriage riddled with bullets. Of the horses that had drawn it, there was no sign. No doubt they had run off in terror. The aliens had dragged the bodies from inside the carriage onto the ground for ease in evisceration, and the gruesome sight was enough to turn the men's stomachs. A few of them stumbled back and gagged.

But Straker was pleased to see that Booth was not one of them. He went up to the woman laying in her own blood in the grass, her organs partially removed, and he stared at her for a long moment before turning to meet Straker's eyes. "This is what they did to my Clarice, isn't it?" he asked in a hard voice.

"Yes." There was no way to make it more palatable, and no sense in lying to him about it now.

Booth nodded before glancing at the rest of the family's bodies that lay around the area. He said, "We'd best get a wagon."

Straker heard the sound he'd unconsciously been waiting for and gave a small smile. "I think it's here." And he turned as Matthew drove up in the wagon from the Manor.

The family had been traveling from Norhamshire for an extended visit to a relative in Powder Mills. The new Mrs. Straker sent the vicar's wife and a few of the Ladies' Society women in her carriage to the grandmother's home to tell them the sad news of the family. In the meantime, she turned their young friend over to Mrs. Meddows, knowing that under her brisk care, the girl would be fine.

Everyone else set about to enjoy the reception as best they could. One didn't allow good food to go to waste, after all, and a lot of preparation had gone into this feast. Louise did what she could to bury her worry for her husband's safety – he was experienced at this, after all – and tried to maintain a calm front. But it was noticeable to everyone how much lighter her eyes looked once the men had safely returned.

It was late when the last of the well-wishers went home. Somehow the fact that the family had not been known to any of the villagers had made the incident more bearable for them, and it hadn't been long before they entered into the spirit of the occasion. Mrs. Meddows had gotten some laudanum from Dr. Woodrow, who had been present at the wedding at the request of the bride. So the girl, whose name was Molly Nodderley, slept peacefully in one of the bedrooms upstairs, watched over by a maid and unaware of the party going on below.

Straker turned to his bride with a rueful smile after seeing off the landlord of the inn and his wife. Sunset had come with a riot of colors and a brisk freshness to the air after the rain. It would be a beautiful evening, but it was doubtful that any of the villagers would be about to enjoy it. Straker had been unsuccessful in convincing them that the demons – once destroyed – would not return immediately to harass them again. But his new wife believed him.

So as their wedding day drew to a close, they walked arm in arm in the garden, pausing every once in a while to embrace among the roses. They would talk about the events of today. And how those events would affect their plans for a honeymoon at the shore. But for tonight, it was enough that they were alive – and alone together at last.

It was some time before they left the stars to themselves and retired indoors for the night.

**Chapter 5**

She was waiting for him when he came into HQ the next morning and followed him into the office. He set down his bag with a sigh and went to make a cup of his favorite tea. Ginny said, "Missing him already, aren't you?"

Jake gave her a rueful smile. "Yeah. He's probably cavorting with some nubile young island girl right about now, and here I am sitting around with too many cinnamon rolls and no one to share them with. It's pathetic, is what it is."

She came over and put her arms around him, leaning into his back as he poured his tea. "I don't think any of us really thought about how much of a fixture he was here at HQ. I know you both chose Ayshea to take over as the main radar controller, but it won't be the same. You won't keep him gone from HQ for too long, will you?"

He turned and hugged her back, drawing comfort from her embrace. "No. I wouldn't be able to stand it for too long without him here. I think I understand a little bit more now how hard these past months have been for Alec. It's such a wrench to let him go, Ginny. But it was the right thing to do."

"I know."

After a few minutes, he drew back and kissed her forehead, then grabbed his tea and sat at the conference table to eat breakfast. "Thanks for the pep talk," he said as he took a roll from the sack. "You're good that way, you know. Thinking of those things that other people wouldn't. Like knowing that I would be missing him today. It means a lot to me that you'd try to cheer me up."

She grinned at him. "It has nothing to do with being nice," she said saucily. "I have an ulterior motive, you see. I want his share of the cinnamon rolls."

He blinked at her for a minute . . . then pushed out a chair with his foot and grinned back at her. "Well, then. Dig in!"

"How is the patient?" he asked when she joined him in the breakfast room.

"A lot calmer," Louise said as she sat at the table with a thick slice of bread and fresh berries. "Mrs. Meddows was quite helpful in getting her to settle down."

"Good. How soon do you think she can be sent to her remaining relatives?"

"I don't know," she said. "Mrs. Cheevers told me that Molly's grandmother took the news badly. She had to be put to bed herself before they left; she was so distraught. I assume we'll hear from the rest of the relatives when they send for the bodies for the funerals. Until then, she's welcome to stay here. There's plenty of room."

He smiled somewhat ruefully at her. "I wasn't worried about housing her, my sweet wife. Hmmm. I like the sound of that," he said, his blue eyes warm as they looked at her.

She blushed, but laughed at him. "You like the sound of housing her?" she teased.

Hr grinned. "I like the sound of you being my wife," he corrected. "But would it be wise for us

to leave her here alone while we go off on our honeymoon?"

"Well, she won't really be alone, Edward. But I understand your concern. This has been such a horrific shock for her. For the first time, I realize how fortunate I was to lose my family one at a time. It would be so devastating to lose them all at once like that! Perhaps one of the women from the Ladies Society will be willing to come and sit with her each day. What do you think?"

He shook his head ruefully. "You know, Louise. I've spent most of my life organizing men into different groups for different purposes – battle, research, building, etc. But I have never seen the kind of instinctive organization that went on yesterday when you sent some women off to handle the relatives while other women cared for the girl. It was as if you didn't even need to speak. They all just knew their part. How do you do that? Is it telepathy?"

"I don't know that word, but it's part of our nature, I think, to want to help in a crisis. And you must admit, in our village more than most, we've had experience with crises."

"Perhaps. But it was wonderful to see in action. I was in awe of you."

She was flustered. "It wasn't me, Edward! It was the group as a whole that handled it. Not one person."

"Yes, my love," he said with a smile over his coffee. "But they all looked to you first to see how you reacted and took their cue from you. You set a fine example for the community, Louise. Is it any wonder that I adore you?"

"You make me sound wonderful," she said with a blush.

"I sincerely hope so," he answered drily. "Or I need to try harder."

"But you were the one who was amazing! All you did was look at Booth and Mr. Hawkins from the inn and the others. It was as if they knew what you wanted from them without words! I was in awe of you, sir!"

"Telepathy," he explained with a grin, then sobered as he considered. "I suppose I never thought about it. Some things a man just knows to do."

Her smile bloomed. "Yes. That's exactly it, Edward. Some things you just know." After a moment, she said softly, "We make a good team, you and I."

"My darling woman," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand and kiss it. "We make an unbeatable team."

Jake came back from his lunch break to find Alec in his office. And something else, as well.

"What's that?" he asked.

Col. Freeman looked over at the wall behind the conference table, where instead of the large abstract painting that had hung there for years, there now hung a panoramic landscape. "Looks like a painting," he said nonchalantly.

"I can see that." Jake came closer to examine it, then started smiling. "It's Narnia!" he said. "See? Here's the Shuddering Wood, and there's the Stone Table. And here's the Great Eastern Ocean, where the Dawn Treader explored. And look! There's even Cair Paravel on the eastern shore!" He turned to Alec, his face aglow. "Where did she find this?"

"Who?" Alec was having a hard time keeping his expression indifferent in the face of Jake's joy.

"Del, of course! She's the only one who could have known what this would mean to me."

Freeman sighed, giving up on trying to pretend disinterest. "What does it mean to you, Jake? Wasn't Narnia some make-believe place?"

"Yes." Jake poured himself a cup of tea, then just stood and stared at the painting, smiling slightly. "In a series of stories I read as a kid. Oh, the innumerable times I escaped to Narnia to get away from my mother! There used to be places in Narnia I could describe to you more clearly than my own bedroom." He turned from the painting and asked, "Is she in the studio now?"

"Yeah. In her office, last I knew."

"Thanks." Jake set down his tea and left the office, heading upstairs to thank his cousin for her gift.

And Alec sat and smiled into his drink, pleased that their ploy had worked.

At the command team briefing the next morning, Alec announced sadly that the betting pool had been won already – by Paul Foster.

"What?" Jake said. "No way! How could he have got it right? He said less time than I did, and I know I was already giving a shorter time frame than I thought possible!"

Ginny asked, "What did he say when you told him, Alec?"

Freeman shrugged. "He said he was sure Keith would get right to work. Said no one who worked in HQ with Straker all those years could relax before they'd actually done their job. He told me it was a given. Oh, and if we wanted to invite him to take part in any more bets, he'd be happy to take our money."

"Damn him!" Ginny muttered, sharing a wry smile with her fiancee. "And poor Keith!"

Jake just shook his head. "Yeah. Poor Keith!"

"Do you have a minute?"

Del looked up from reading a pilot script for a proposed series, one where the writer had a ragtag crew of misfits aboard a broken-down spaceship trying to make a living flying from planet to planet smuggling. It was the kind of story that tickled her sense of irony and wit. She'd have to sit down with this Joss guy and talk serious business soon. It took her a moment to focus on the question and who was asking it. Then she sat forward, closed the script, and said, "Sure. Come in."

Ginny took a seat in front of the clear acrylic desk. It was more a sculpture than a desk, and she wondered where Del had found such a unique piece for her studio office? It certainly didn't look even remotely like the same office as before. Del had already put her undeniable stamp on it, from the stunningly beautiful desk to the undoubtedly priceless collection of Faberge eggs on the backlit glass shelves on the wall behind her chair. Only the thin silver cigar case on the corner of the desk remained the same. "Looks nice in here," Ginny said sincerely.

"Thanks." Del leaned back in her red leather chair and smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering what to do about the wedding," Ginny told her.

One of Del's brows rose. "As in: whether to have it or not?"

Ginny chuckled. "No. Nothing like that."

Del relaxed. "Oh. Good."

"It's just that Jake is leaving the whole thing up to me."

"And you don't want to have the responsibility?"

"I don't want to end up with a wedding he'll hate!"

Del frowned at her concern. "What makes you think he'd hate it?"

Ginny tried to explain her dilemma. "It's just that . . . I know I'm more like his parents than I am like him."

"Nonsense!" she said immediately. "If you were, he wouldn't be in love with you."

"But I am!" Ginny insisted. "I'm neat and modern, and he's . . . well, he's scruffy and old-fashioned. And those two don't usually mix well when you're trying to put together a wedding."

"Oh! I get it," Del said. "You need a planner who can merge both your tastes into one cohesive event."

"A planner? I hadn't thought of that."

Del gave her a pitying look. "You weren't going to try to do the whole thing yourself, were you? When would you find the time?"

"Hmmm. Good question," Ginny said. "Okay, then. Know any good wedding planners?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Del told her, checking her PDA for the number. "Karla is incredible! She always seems to get what her clients really want – whether they can articulate that to her or not. I swear the girl is psychic!" She scribbled down the number and handed it to the colonel. "Tell her I sent you. She'll fit you in without any hassle that way."

Ginny took the small note and said, "I appreciate it, Del. More than I can say."

"You don't need to say a thing," she was told. "It's obvious that you love my cousin. And he's been gone on you since you first met. So, why would I stand in the way of true love?"

Ginny flushed slightly. "I never believed in all that stuff, you know. True love. Forever after. I'm not sure that I do even now, actually. But Jake believes in it. And he makes me want to believe too."

Del smiled softly. "He'll get you believing eventually. He's an incurable romantic. Sooner or later you end up asking yourself, why am I fighting this? I_ like_ being treated this way! And boom! He's got ya!"

Ginny laughed. "He is very hard to resist, I have to admit. What about you, Del? Do you believe in true love and all that?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course I do. I think every girl – no matter what she knows – wants to believe in those things."

"I hesitate to pry, but I'm wondering . . . ?"

Del grinned. "About me and Alec?"

Ginny sighed with relief at not offending her. "Yes. You and Alec. Is he your one true love?"

"Alec is . . . Alec," Del said. "He's my hot fudge sundae with the cherry on top. I refuse to analyze him further than that."

Ginny smiled at the description. As odd as it was, it made sense to her when seen from Del's perspective. "I wish you all the best with him. He's a greater man than he knows. And he deserves some peace."

"Nah!" Del disagreed with a grin. "He can be at peace when he's dead. What he needs is some fun. Fun like he's never had in his whole life! For all his jokes and wit, Alec's a man who doesn't know enough about laughter. And the simple joys of everyday life."

Ginny swallowed the tears that were crowding her throat. How had Del seen that? Seen what even those who worked with him every day had failed to notice – until it had been pointed out just now? "And you're giving him fun?" she asked.

"As much as he can stand."

Ginny stood up and shook her hand. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Del said as the colonel left the office. Then she firmed her lips and continued, "I'm going to need it."

**Epilogue**

Straker wasn't sure what to think of his bathing suit. None of the period pieces he had starred in over the years had ever had scenes where people were swimming at the beach. Probably because swimming didn't really catch on in England as a sport until the mid 1800's. But he thought the main reason must have been that the actors would have rebelled against wearing the swimming suits of the era.

He tried to think of the striped wool suit covering every inch of his body below the neck (except his feet and hands) as an early prototype of a wetsuit. But he finally decided that the stripes must be the problem, because he just felt remarkably foolish in it.

His wife, on the other hand, looked quite lovely in her navy wool bathing suit. It had to be heavy, since it not only had a long sleeved blouse, but also a full length skirt with weights attached to keep it from flying up when submerged, not to mention the undergarments required to be worn by any lady of delicacy. He much preferred her in her chemise, swimming beside him in the pond back home. But they were in public, and such things would not be acceptable here at the shore. However, even in the heavy wool outfit, she looked beautiful. And he decided that it was time to admit that he truly was besotted.

"How dashing you look, Mr. Straker!" she said as they strolled toward the waves.

He smiled at her, trying to see himself through her eyes and relaxing as he realized that his ridiculous garment looked quite normal to her. "And you look gorgeous, as always, my love."

She grinned at him, laughing as they entered the water and the waves surged against their legs. He held her hand firmly, wanting to give her time to get used to the differences between the ocean and the pond where she normally swam. She seemed fearless, striking out against the waves until they were waist deep. Then she turned and let the water push her close enough to put her arms around his neck and kiss him.

He was surprised that she was willing to be so bold in public, but looking around, he could tell that they were far enough out that what they did would not be easily noticed from the beach. So he pulled her closer still and gave her the kiss he'd been wanting to give her since they'd finished breakfast this morning and left the hotel.

Her dark green eyes promised him untold delights as she stared into his face. "How I wish we were at the pond!" she whispered huskily, and he knew she was remembering how much easier it was to work around thin undergarments compared to their current clothing. He almost groaned, wishing it too. But he said, "Tonight we shall go to that cove we found. No one will see us there."

She smiled in anticipation, her eyes lighting up at the thought. Then she shook her head ruefully and said, "Edward, tell me the merits of going on a honeymoon."

He frowned, not sure what she wanted him to say. "Well, there's the obvious. We get to be alone together for as long as we want."

"But that's just it!" she complained. "We have had more difficulties getting to be alone together since we have come here than we ever encountered back home. There are just so many people here! And I want you to myself. Is that wrong of me?"

He smoothed her wet curls away from her cheeks. "No, my love. I feel exactly the same way. But if we were at home, we would find ourselves dealing with the demands of our lives instead of enjoying every hour together as we've done here."

"Perhaps that's the problem," she said seriously. "Sharing every hour with you only makes me want to explore our unity more and more. Surely there must come a time when I shall not want you so much? Or we shall never survive to return home!"

He laughed, picking her up into his arms and spinning her around in the waves. As he brought her close once more, he kissed her throat and murmured, "I don't ever want to stop wanting you this much, my darling wife! No matter what the cost!" He met her eyes, his own blue ones twinkling at her. "I suppose we could spend all our time in the hotel room?"

She giggled. "Oh, no, Edward! How scandalous that would be! And how bored we'd become cooped up inside our room all day!"

"Then I'm afraid we're stuck with people, my love. Can you bear it?"

She gave a mock sigh. "It would be easier, my darling husband, if you were not such a fine figure of a man. You make me forget where we are!"

He grinned, taking her hand to walk with her through the water. "I quite understand, because I have a similar problem, since my wife is so deliriously beautiful."

"Oh, Edward! I'm not!" she said, blushing.

"Oh, Louise! Nor am I dashing!" he retaliated with a grin.

She gave him a fierce frown. "Am I blind then, sir?"

"Yes, my love. You are." He kissed her deeply. "We both are. Love does that to you – blinds you to the whole world until you only see the one who matters."

She laid a hand against his face and stared into his eyes. "Then may I always be so afflicted."

"Who needs the world?" he murmured in agreement as he kissed her again.


End file.
